


I Can’t Go Back to Yesterday Because I was a Different Person Then

by Genderhawk



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland Fusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Is it a dream?, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), cw trent ickithon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genderhawk/pseuds/Genderhawk
Summary: Bren Aldric Ermendrud was a model student of the Soltryce Academy and a paragon of patriotism for his homeland, the Dwendalian Empire, and even more important was the fact that he was a man of eighteen.  This all meant that, of course, he could not be caught dead reading an old children’s tale.Dreams are important.  Dreams mean something, about what our life has been, is now, or will be.  Some dreams mean more than others...The rating is for Ickythong's dubious methods of pedagogy.
Kudos: 10





	I Can’t Go Back to Yesterday Because I was a Different Person Then

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Trent ickithon and Caleb's backstory. Starvation, hunger, sleep deprevation, torture, etc like... you guys I'm not writing just angst but I'm not shying away from mentioning the bad stuff. Also drug use and other weird shit a la alice in wonderland.
> 
> OK! I've been adding to this slowly and I wanted to post it as a finished fic but I'm unorganized and filled with too many ideas to wait any longer. So... Enjoy!

Bren Aldric Ermendrud was a model student of the Soltryce Academy and a paragon of patriotism for his homeland, the Dwendalian Empire, and even more important was the fact that he was a man of eighteen. This all meant that, of course, he could not be caught dead reading an old children’s tale. It was also true that he would never dream of alerting Astrid or Eodwulf about how he had woken at 2:39 in the morning with a scream that died before it’s birth so caught in his throat that he couldn’t breathe, he wouldn’t tell them about how nights like this grew more frequent with each week under the tutelage of Trent Ickathon, and he would not tell them how he could do nothing to calm himself besides reading the one relic he still had from home.

‘You might just as well say,’ added the Doormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, `that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing as “I sleep when I breathe”!’

Oh how he longed to scratch the healing cuts that ran up his arms but…. No… He would resist the weaknesses of his body. He would ignore the pain of the crystals embedded in his flesh and he would ignore the growing itch.

By the time Alice had left the tea party Bren was ready to face the grey-nightmare of his dreamscapes. A nightmare of frightening shapes and threats in the mist that was half remembered when the sunlight crested the sill of the window and Bren clawed his way free of nightmares once more. His room was the same except for the small white rabbit that stood at the foot of his bed.

Yes. The rabbit stood. And furthermore it was clothed. The animal was clad in the coat and tails of a tuxedo and it held a pocket watch, attached to the jacket by a delicate gold chain, at which it seemed to be peering intently. 

Bren Aldric Ermendrud was a model student of the Soltryce Academy and a paragon of patriotism for his homeland, the Dwendalian Empire, and even more important was the fact that he was a man of eighteen. This all meant that, of course, he could not be seeing a rabbit that wore clothes, used timepieces, and somehow had made its way into his bedroom. A bedroom that was located near the center of an estate protected by mundane and arcane means that even Bren, Master Ickathon’s favorite, did not know the extent of. He did the first thing that came to mind and pinched his wrist, just at the edge of the bandages that wound up his arms, hard enough to draw blood. The pain was real enough but he thought that wasn’t too unexpected considering the escalation of his nightly suffering.

The rabbit looked up at the slightly jagged breath that escaped Bren’s discipline in regards to expressing weakness. 

“Oh good, you’re up. We’re late.”

Bren Aldric Ermendrud was a model student of the Soltryce Academy and a paragon of patriotism for his homeland, the Dwendalian Empire, and even more important was the fact that he was a man of eighteen… And it seemed that there was a clothed, clock reading, talking rabbit standing at the foot of his bed. It was probably a dream, a decent one for all that the pain felt real, and Master Ickathon couldn’t punish him for dreams. He wouldn’t be denied food or bedding or hot water for having a good dream, right?

With that decided, Bren rose and turned to the rabbit with a bow that seemed only slightly out of place considering the sleep crusted in his eyes and the rumpled appearance of his sleepwear. “For what are we late, Herr Hase?” he asked, smoothing the wrinkles that marred his soft blue pants and white shirt as he spoke.

“No time, no time, we’re late dear boy!” the rabbit snapped his watch shut and settled it in his pocket before he leapt from the bed and through a dark hole in the wall. Before his thoughts, however quick, could catch up to his body he was launching himself into the swirling vortex

He was entranced by the vivid swirls of color that enveloped him as he tumbled… down? Down seemed likely although his directional sense, usually infallible, was failing. Until he wasn’t falling and was, instead, seated in a pond of some kind. The water was just to his shoulders and the cold mud was squeezing it’s way up between his toes even before he stood. His feet sunk into the mud as he rose and glanced around for the nearest dry ground. As he turned he saw a human woman wearing a blue top that exposed her well defined midriff as well as a pair of loose and low slung pants. 

“Who the fuck’re you?” The voice came seconds after he noticed the woman, it was harsh but not cruel for all that she spoke with language that was not acceptable in the eyes of Master Ickithon and therefore in Bren’s own eyes as well. He thought fast, something inside of him rebelled at the idea of being Bren (Student, soldier, scarred, scared, sacrificing...) in this strange dream.

“My name is Caleb.” He spoke with the authority of truth even though the words were lies “Caleb Widogast.” His feet were moving in the muck almost without thought until he was standing on dry ground and shivering slightly.

“You’re wet” the voice that startled Caleb came from his left, the woman in blue prodded him in the side to punctuate her observation before adding “and cold...”

“Ja...” Caleb’s sarcastic retort was cut off when the woman grabbed him by the wrist, causing him to flinch even as she began to pull him along as she ran.

“Let’s race!” she cheered and Caleb noticed that, drawn on the ground at his feet, was the messiest race track he had ever seen. At this point it was run or fall and so he ran. The woman never released his arm although they ran until Caleb was breathing hard. She pulled him along (how strange a race this was…) until his damp clothes seemed to have lost most of their moisture and even the athletic woman before him was breathing a little harder than she had been when he first saw her. 

When, eventually, the ‘race’ was over and the insistent tug at his arm dropped away he almost crumpled to the ground. Sheer willpower alone kept Caleb upright, that and practice…

_He stood at the center of the room, hands held aloft and crossed at the wrist, again. Blood welled around where his teeth dug into his lip and cheek to quell each cry of pain. The whip bit into his back, his shoulders, his ribs. 29… 30. And he was done. At least he still stood. At least his arms had not dropped. At least his lesson in endurance was over… For now._

Caleb barely flinched when there was a sharp crack in the clearing. The noise startled him out of his memories (what kind of dream includes memories like that?) and the pain that bloomed across his left cheek brought him back to the current moment.

“What the fuck, man?” the voice was the woman, she was kneeling (why was she kneeling? He had been standing, hadn’t he?) in front of him, concern on her face. His hands gripped the grass on which they lay and he struggled to stand on aching feet at the end of rubbery legs. “Whatever, you’re real squishy you know”

Caleb winced when the woman punched him in the arm before both of their attention was drawn to the nearby treeline where two women, dressed nearly identically and wearing… Pillows. Yes. They were wearing what seemed to be a mismatched collection of pillows that were tied to them in a fashion that, very vaguely, hinted at armor and were paired with… Deerstalker style hats. The smaller woman was screeching as she sprinted into the field and onto the race track where Caleb stood.

“Catch her Beau!” called the larger woman, several yards behind the smaller one. Her blue cheeks were flushed with exertion as she ran into the clearing as well. Before Caleb could process her movements the human woman, Beau, had stood to catch the green woman who was dodging around the pond and between them. Equally quickly, the goblin had scrambled out of the arms of the human woman and stood atop her shoulders before launching herself over Caleb and continuing to run.

The blue tiefling had reached the two humans as Beau turned to chase the goblin who was… laughing as she ran to the other edge of the clearing and began to climb a tree. Caleb watched in a mix of shock and amusement as the human chased the goblin up a tree. The goblin woman carried a crossbow with bolts that were topped by marshmallows instead of the usual sharpened heads, which she was firing freely down at her pursuers as she climbed, and the tiefling had summoned a massive spiritual lollipop that was soon blocking the other woman’s ascent into the tree. With that done Beau caught the goblin and held her tight before jumping from the tree and landing, catlike, with her quarry in a tight grip.

“She ate my last donut!” explained the tiefling, in a whine as an answer to a question that had been asked before the trio arrived within the range of his ears. “We were gonna duel but then Tweedlenott started running…. So basically we’re here now basically!”

As suddenly as the two had come barreling into the clearing, a blue hand plunged into Caleb’s personal space. He suppressed a flinch as the woman introduced herself “I’m Tweedlejes! Who’re you?”

Caleb took her hand in his own and, as the practiced courtier he had become, bowed over it. If, as he straightened, Caleb noticed the dark blue of a blush across her cheeks and over her nose he wasn’t going to say anything. And he wouldn’t say anything if that warm blush stirred something else inside of him, something warmer than he had felt since leaving home.

“Caleb,” came a hurried answer when he noticed how many moments had passed “Caleb Widogast. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He turned to where Beau stood with Tweedlenott perched atop her shoulders, both women had arms crossed over chests.

The trio talked for a while longer and, eventually, Beau and Tweedlenott relaxed and joined Tweedlejes and Caleb where they sat on the ground.

Caleb was always aware of the passage of time and this held true even, it seemed, in strange dreams. But, for all the awareness he held of the time passing, it still wasn’t until his stomach gave a loud grumble at the lack of recent food that he recognized his growing hunger. Much like with the whip or the ice chamber he was being tested. The rich foods of the academy and Master Ickathon’s estate were temporary and it had been four days, seven hours, and thirteen minutes since he had been allowed more than a mouthful of broth (one day, two hours, and eighteen minutes since that broth). This was fine. This was understandable, weakness of the body must be overcome with the strength of the mind and he knew this. But surely, in a dream, he could eat? Master Ickithon would know of course that he had given in to weakness, but it wasn’t as if food in this dream could fill him in any way so it would not result in too harsh a punishment.

As a debate waged within his mind, Caleb fell silent. And, as Caleb fell silent, the smell of tea and fresh baked breads drifted into the clearing on the shifting breeze. His stomach gave a lurche, followed by the rest of him as tweedlejes pressed an ear suddenly to his stomach… Had she always been that close?

Almost as quickly as the blue ear had pressed against his midsection there was powdered sugar drifting over his chest as a donut, with some assorted linty hangers-on, was pressed against his lips. A surprised inhale lead to a series of coughs, powdered sugar isn’t intended for the lungs.

When his breathing is finally under control, Caleb stands as Tweedlejes drops to donut into his outstretched hand. “Perhaps, after all the running, we should eat something… more. Ja?” Caleb flinched internally at the squeal that followed his suggestion,Tweedlejes was apparently very pleased.

“Oh! It’s teatime then!” Beau groaned, rolling her eyes at Tweedlejes’s suggestion, in an exaggerated show of distaste that made the other two women laugh. Caleb felt blue fingers twist around his and, when he looked over, found that Beau was in the same situation to his left. Again Caleb felt fingers around his. So now, a chain of linked hands, they were led back into the forest by a skipping and chattering tiefling.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments Keep the Creativity Koursing!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at genderhawk.tumblr.com


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